


A Year Off the Record

by orphan_account



Category: X-Men (Alternate Timeline Movies)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Ficlet Collection, Gen, M/M, Slow Burn, Whump
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-08-19
Packaged: 2020-06-30 14:08:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,658
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19854790
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: A collection of X-Men: First Class "between the scenes" scenes.Chapter 1: FloridaChapter 2: CerebroChapter 3: Post-Russia





	1. Out of the Water

**Author's Note:**

> some one-shots during/before XMFC, my personal favorite xmen movie even though its probably the worst one as a filme.
> 
> anyway an explanation for this. i'm having these in chronological order, so its KINDA like a regular fic but there's no narrative to them. it's also a slow burn because i plan on this relationship culminating somewhere later. so, kinda like snippets of a timeline that could be true.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A scene directly after Charles pulls Erik from the water.

"Do we have an EMT on board? Anyone?" Moira was barking at the crew who looked at her as if she were a kitten. Charles gritted his teeth against the shivers and placed a hand on her arm. "A medic? _Hello?"_

"Moira, we're fine," he said. Behind him his new friend was baring his teeth at whoever happened to walk by; their walk turning into a brisk jog to the opposite end of the boat. His wetsuit was making a puddle of seawater beneath him. "If you could find two blankets though..."

She nodded, her shoulders relaxing. Charles felt a burst of anger for her, but he had other things to focus on. Chiefly, Erik Lehnsherr, the metal-bending mutant who had sawed a boat in half with an anchor not five minutes before. And, if what he'd seen—or, more aptly, _felt_ , Erik knew Shaw. Maybe knew him too well, if the white-hot anger that had left the edges of Charles' mind singed was any indication of familiarity. 

Charles watched Moira disappear into the cabins and decided to introduce himself.

"I'm Charles Xavier," he offered, extending his hand. Erik watched him from beneath a furrowed brow, the sharp exhales out of his nose audible over the bustle of the crew. Charles curled his fingers into a fist and drew back his arm. "And you are?"

"Is this what we're doing?" Erik had an accent that Charles could only describe as European. It was a heavy mix of German and Irish and even Polish, if Charles was correctly remembering what that sounded like. He was handsome, Charles found himself thinking. In a... classic sort of way. And most of the other ways. He was really quite attractive.

After a moment of staring, Charles snapped back to the conversation. "I—what? Is _what_ what we're doing?"

Erik rolled his pale eyes. "You know my name already."

"Oh," Charles said. He felt himself blush. "I just think that it'd be rather rude if we didn't... properly acquaint ourselves."

"You think it's rude?" Erik looked confused.

"Is it not? I didn't exactly get that with your permission."

The furrow in his brow turned from frustrated to quizzical. "I'm surprised someone like you has morals."

Charles wasn't sure which part to get offended at first. He decided to go with, "'Someone like me'?"

"You could be rude to me all you wanted, and it wouldn't matter." Erik folded his arms across his chest, a movement that made a squelching sound as the wetsuit rubbed against itself. He still managed to be intimidating despite the attire. Did he even need a wetsuit off the coast of Florida? "You could make me do anything."

"Don't tempt me," said Charles. Erik didn't even flinch. Charles sighed. "Well, I'm not doing that. So I'm hoping that might be at least one reason why you should trust me," said Charles. Erik raised his eyebrows, releasing them from their seemingly endless lock into grumpiness. "Among all the others, of course."

The other man smirked. "Which are...?"

He was either an arrogant bastard or was trying to call a bluff, or both. Whatever he was, Charles wasn't going to let it get to him. "You would've died back there if I hadn't intervened."

"And maybe I wouldn't have, and _Schmidt_ would be dead."

"It wasn't a chance I was willing to take."

"Why?"

Charles paused, confused. "Why what?"

"How important am I what you're doing? Do you know who I am?"

There was a risk of telling Erik _yes,_ _I saw, Erik Magnus Lehnsherr... or should I call you Max Eisenhardt!_ At the same time, Erik was already apprehensive, already eyeing the badges and the suits and the posture of the crew, and telling Erik he just got fished up right into a CIA operation by happenstance wasn't a good plan either. Charles was stuck staring at him with his mouth open.

"Well?"

"I just got here," Charles said, "Er. New recruit, you could say."

Erik's gaze took him in slowly, from the opening of his peacoat to the soles of his Oxfords. "A new recruit," he repeated.

All Charles could hear now was the waves slapping against the hull of the boat and Erik's steady, loud breathing. It was trancelike enough that Charles actually jumped when Moira finally draped a blanket over his shoulders. 

It was little consolation; the thin, moisture-wicking army blankets were better suited for temperature regulation than mopping someone up. Charles was grateful for what they could get though, and he gave Moira a small kiss on the cheek in thank you. She blushed. Erik watched with the same intenseness that he'd questioned Charles with, his eyes narrowing.

"What's your name?" she asked Erik as he tugged his own blanket over himself. Erik said nothing and scowled. "Right," she said. "Charles?"

Charles kept his mouth shut too.

 _She's a friend,_ he projected to Erik, looking him in the eye.

The other man visibly started. 

_If you're to trust no one else, trust me and trust her. She's the one who gets you access to Schmidt, and I'm the one who gets you access to her._

Erik broke the eye contact, something slowly opening in him. "Erik," he said quietly.

Moira didn't know how much of a step that had been and continued, "Erik what?"

"I'm sure you already know that," Erik snapped, and whatever it had open slammed shut. "Get me to shore. I'm not under your jurisdiction."

"Can we at least ask you a few questions?" Charles was panicking at the thought of losing the mutant so soon, and Erik knew it.

He gave him a smug smile, but so did Moira. "You're under the United States Coast Guard's jurisdiction for tearing up that boat off _our_ coast. We can hold you until proper charges are filed in court, which I assume would call into question your citizenship... and your record."

Erik's eyes blazed with anger, his lips parting in surprise to show gritted teeth. "I assume your _rookie_ told you?"

"You mean Mr. Xavier?" Moira smiled pleasantly; that made his hands clench into fists. "No. I doubt he knows half of what put you on our radar... which, I bet, is another half of everything else. This is _his_ operation though, and he'd be much more willing to pardon your crimes than I."

Charles could've proposed to Moira right there in front of everybody. _Quick thinking, love,_ he thought. She smiled conspiratorially in return.

For the first time, Erik looked at Charles with recognition. Charles kept his mouth shut and he extended his hand again, a smile coming to his face unbidden.

With the calculation of a trapped man, Erik shook it.


	2. Cerebro

Every part of Charles was sinking.

His eyes, his cheeks, his head into the government-issued pillows... every part of him was going _down._ Erik couldn't bear to think what was happening inside his body, to his mind... A sick part of him wondered if he'd wake up the same person.

He asked Hank.

The young scientist worried his lip with his teeth. "The thing is... I don't know."

"Great," Erik muttered, his nails digging into his palms in a poor attempt to feign indifference. "When does he wake up?"

"I'm not sure about that either."

"What are you even doing, then, besides putting a cold cloth on his forehead?" Hank froze in place at the aggressiveness. Erik felt a twinge in his temple, like a small pinch to the skin.

"With all due respect, Erik, I wouldn't be rushing--"

"I know," he said, his voice suddenly softer than he would have liked. "I just... **.** "

Hank sighed. "I know too. Don't try anything dangerous. Please."

"What, you think I'm going to do _your_ job?" Erik asked with a faked grin. That alleviated the tensions in Hank's shoulders, if by an imperceptible amount. A small smile crept onto the young man's face as he looked back at the bed Charles was sinking into; the curvature of his lips disappeared as soon as he saw how gaunt Charles was. He sighed and turned to face Erik.

"You can stay here with him, if you want. I mean, I just have things I need to do, and--"

"That's fine," said Erik. He was eager to find some peace from the man and his constant anxiety.

He positioned a fold-out chair against the wall and faced it towards Charles, watching his body heave up and down as he labored to breathe. It was so pitiful he couldn't watch.

And somehow, Erik wasn't angry. 

By all accounts, he should've. He should want to storm into that agent's office and shout at him for jeopardizing the mission, for letting Charles use the installation without knowing what it was capable of--what _he_ was capable of. Now Charles was coming in and out of oblivion with each breath and Erik couldn't even muster up the anger to sulk.

Charles wouldn't have wanted him to. Erik glowered at the lump on the cot and tried to find some anger within himself. He looked everywhere, but it was like it was locked away, the key given to... 

His brow furrowed.

"Charles," he said to the empty room, his voice tentative.

For a moment, silence. All he heard was the resounding hum of the air conditioning unit and the songbirds outside the facility window.

_Charles._

_Hi,_ he finally said.

_You're a bastard._

_You wound me. But how do I look? I remember hitting my head on the way off the platform..._

Erik's eyes refocused on Charles' body rising and sinking, his lips parted for air and his eyelashes fluttering with each breath. There was a bruise on the top of his cheek, staining the alabaster skin a sickly purple. He looked... ethereal, Erik thought.

_Poetic. I like that,_ Charles said. The voiceless voice was infused with a humor that should've made Erik mad.

_You still look like hell._

_Agh, well, I suppose that can't be helped. How are you?_

_Missing something of mine,_ he thought pointedly, trying to send Charles the sensation of a light smack upside the head. 

_Try harder next time, my friend. I was trying to spare Hank's mental fortitude. Don't want my doctor having shaking hands, and all..._

_I don't think that's entirely true._

_It's not,_ Charles replied. There was the mental equivalent of a sigh. _You shouldn't lose hope so quickly._

Erik re-positioned himself in his chair, crossing one foot over his thigh as he tried not to throttle the frail, unconscious man struggling not to slip into a coma. _Can you blame me for feeling hopeless, Charles?_

_Never. But I could._

_You should stay unconscious._

_But I'd miss looking at your scowl when you say such mean things..._

The thought that this conversation may be their last... Desperation churned in the pit of his stomach before he processed the rest of what Charles had said. 

_I'd miss you too... I guess._

_Oh, darling._

_Idiot._

_My dear._

Something seized in Erik's chest as they bantered back and forth, Charles pelting him with pet names as Erik tried his hardest to repel them, to strip them of their meaning and have them bounce uselessly off. It was futile.

_Then don't refuse it,_ Charles thought. His words wrapped around Erik's mind like a warm winter scarf. _Erik, you're wound so tight... one more thing and you'll snap._ That's _why I took it away._

_Took_ it away. His anger, his sense of betrayal and fury. It was as if he was missing a crutch, and Erik was desperately trying to find a way to keep himself upright.

_Lean on me, then._

_Charles._

_I can handle it._

_You're almost comatose._

_And? Perhaps I didn't mean literally. Besides... it's all in the brain, isn't it._

_Your brain almost killed you._

_Or it could've saved me. There's no way of knowing._

_Promise you're not using it again, Charles._ If Erik had to see his body go rigid like that again, his eyes going so wide it must've hurt... Erik shivered in his seat, tucking his crossed leg closer to his body. 

_Is that really what it looked like?_ The terrifying moment of Cerebro overwhelming Charles played in Erik's mind as Charles watched it again. _Ugh, that's awful. I look... quite unflattering._

_Stop dodging the question._

_No. And you'll only get mad at the answer to your next question, so don't ask._ Charles' thoughts were somber now, their playfulness diminished as Erik made a direct cut to what Charles had done so well at avoiding.

_Why?_ Erik asked anyway. _It almost killed you. It_ is _killing you. What if you don't wake up the same? What if you don't wake up at all?_

_I'm talking to you right now, aren't I? Still... it killing me is a risk I'm willing to take._

_But_ why? Erik thought again.

_For the same reason you almost drowned yourself in the Atlantic,_ Charles thought. Erik froze, his eyes stuck on the body in the bed. _This may be my only chance._

_Charles..._

_Erik._

Tears sprung unbidden as Erik stood and in three long strides was at the bed, looming over Charles as he continued to sink lower, lower, lower... 

_I'm sorry,_ Erik thought, _I'm sorry._

He wasn't sure what for.

_Don't act like that._

_Like what?_

_Like you had anything to do with this._

_I could've stopped you._

_I'd hope that you know me better than to think that._

"Fuck you," Erik said aloud, his fists balling at his sides. He put up his mental shields as high as they could go, hoping they snapped at Charles' incorporeal fingers as he pulled away from his mind. "You're being reckless. And I know that I'm reckless too, so don't try that argument with me either."

Charles' hand twitched. 

"I want this to go on as much as you do," he continued, choking on the tears running down his throat. Emotion was flooding him at all sides, the mention of _last chances,_ of Charles continuing to sink, of Schmidt's face etched into his mind that night on the boat-- "But I'm..."

He watched as Charles did nothing but sigh, sinking further into the pillows. His skin was damp with sweat when Erik grabbed his hand. "I... I don't think I can do this without you."

Charles's hand lay limp underneath his own and Erik thought of him, cut off from Erik's mind, losing its closest tether, floating in uncertainty and _sinking sinking sinking--_ Erik opened his mental shields up as quickly as he could. Immense guilt weighed down on him as he searched for Charles' thoughts among his own, the telltale tickling sensation of a presence alongside him.

"Charles?" he asked.

Something in the bed croaked. Erik whipped around so fast he must've twisted something. Charles' brow was furrowed with confusion, his pupils pinpricks in the intense clinical light. "'rik--"

Erik forewent Hank's careful instructions and wrapped the man up in a tight hug, pulling him from the abyss. The awkward angle buried Charles' nose into the broad expanse of his shoulder. 

_Ow,_ Charles thought as he returned a weak version of the hug. _But I enjoy the enthusiasm._

Erik said nothing but kept the shields open, letting Charles indulge in the waves of relief and released anxiety as he gripped him.

After what might've been a minute, half an hour, a day, even, Charles pulled away and sat against the headboard. "I'm... glad I was somewhat right."

"About what?" said Erik.

"I made myself wake up," he said.

"But _you_ said that was impossible."

"Well, yes, and you were right. I told myself that if I woke up you'd..." The gaze Charles gave him was full of longing and confusion. "You'd show you cared."

"Of course I care," Erik said, pulling himself upright into his full height. "I'm sorry I cut you off, I just--"

"Couldn't handle it?"

"Yeah," he said, breathless. Erik bit his lip. "Yeah."

"You've always been the more hopeful one between the two of us," Charles mused. He stroked the skin on the back of Erik's hand with his thumb. "I thought I'd try it out."

"And you thought of me?"

"You," Charles said, "And Raven. Even Hank, I think. You should tell him I said that."

"I think he'd rather hear it from you."

Charles smiled, his eyes weary. "Yes, I suppose you're right... oh, you must forgive me, suppressing that was for the best. Here."

Something snapped in his brain, like a load-bearing twig coming loose from an unstable dam, and all the _anger_ flooded into him, making his body shake with rage. Charles' eyes widened with panic as he attempted to patch the holes.

"I'm sorry," he whispered, coughing with the exertion. The barrage of emotion slowed down to a trickle. "I forgot how angry you usually are." 

Erik grumbled, which made Charles laugh for a moment before flopping back into the pillows. "My head _hurts."_

"I should get Hank," Erik said.

Charles watched him for a good five seconds his blue eyes flitting across his face, before nodding. "Just don't drown in it, Erik."

Erik was too busy worrying to hear him.


	3. Plane Back From Russia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so i had to delete and reupload this because i uploaded a new chapter that went BEFORE the others? and it messed up? and i wanted my fic to be recent for engagement purposes so this is not a new chapter i'm sorry about that

Erik was shivering the entire way to the base. Charles wrapped his coat around him, but he knew the Russian chill wasn't the sole reason for his shaking.

The car ride was silent except for the occasional chatter of the teeth, clearing of the throat, or Charles' shifting against Erik, trying to keep a point of contact between them. Erik even took off his glove so Charles could slot his hand into his. Both of them knew but neither of them said that it was because he needed something to anchor him back down to earth.

Charles decided the plane ride wouldn't play out the same way. A discussion needed to happen.

Both about the attack, about what it meant and what to do, the strategy and specifics moving forward as a unit... but Charles could see the way Erik's eyes fixed on nothing, how his mind buzzed with the equivalent of static. Shaw had taken everything from him, had taken it and ripped it up... from what Charles had seen in the water and the little of what Erik had told him, Shaw resurfacing in his life was going to shake up what both of them had tried so hard to settle.

Erik agreed to talk, as long as it was in private. Charles stroked Erik's trembling hand with his thumb and, on a whim, the driver decided to pay more attention to the road as he laid his head on the other man's shoulder. 

Moira was there when they arrived. She counseled them both with hugs. Erik let her hug him, an act that spoke volumes to how slow he was to act, but he kept his arms at his sides as she squeezed. Charles returned the hug, even buried his head into the crook of her shoulder. When she let go her warmth went with her, leaving Charles to yearn for contact.

"I'm so sorry," she whispered, her eyes filling with tears. "I--I really thought he'd be here, everything pointed to--"

"It's not your fault, love," Charles said. "Schmidt tricked us. And you got us someone close to him. That's good."

Erik's jaw clenched. Charles rubbed his back in comforting circles. 

"We can talk about this when we're onboard," he said.

Moira made to turn, then stopped herself. "Charles..."

"Mm?"

"The telepath you found. The woman."

"Yes."

She looked at Erik again with her mouth pressed into a thin line. "Next time, try not to break necks."

Erik refocused for a moment to roll his eyes. Charles smiled. "I'll take it up with the rest of the team, dear."

The plane was a small commercial airliner, meant to evade detection from Soviets as they landed in Poland. The plane had a first class section and one other, separated by a curtain. A small cadre of agents were lounging in first class, sipping coffee and warming their hands with their breath. 

"Go to the back for now," Moira told them. They scattered in varying degrees of obedience. One fled as soon as she'd walked in; another two waited until Charles cleared his throat. A blush crept up Moira's neck.

"Vermin," muttered Erik as he sat down in one of the first-class chairs. Charles filed in next to him, with Moira across. 

"Indeed." Moira's jaw was hardened too as she stared at the curtain separating them. She sighed, clasping her hands together on the table. "So. Schmidt."

"He calls himself Shaw. Or at least, that's his name around contemporaries," Charles said, recalling his trip through Emma Frost's head. "I think we start calling him that too."

Erik frowned. "What difference does it make?"

"For congruence. If that's what they're calling him, we should too. Even if it's not his name," Charles added as he watched Erik ball a hand into a fist in his lap. 

"Fine. But calling him something different isn't going to change anything other than data storage," Erik said.

"The more things we're doing right the better," said Moira, rubbing at her temples in slow, vertical movements. "But Erik is right. That'll only do so little."

Charles nodded. "We need to figure out what we're going to do. We can't stay in Langley. And, I'm sorry, but I don't think we can stay with the CIA either."

Moira stopped rubbing. "What do you mean? This whole operation is subsidized by the CIA."

"And that's how he found us," Charles said. 

"You're suggesting that there's someone on the inside leaking information?"

"Not willingly." Erik straightened, interested in where he was going. "He took Frost with him."

"So this was planned? Why attack now? There's already a tab running for you guys' expenses; he could have found us months ago. When you were still finding mutants, even."

"It wasn't planned. He found out in the past few days. Maybe even yesterday; it wouldn't matter. He has someone who can... translocate. Be in one place in one second, another in the next. I think you saw him, Moira, with the General."

"Yes, I—I did, with red skin? Looked like the devil?"

"From Frost's memories, I think that's the one. I'll talk to the kids when we get home, but I bet you they were there with Shaw. That's how he got away so quickly without detection."

Erik started to shiver again. Charles put his hand on his knee underneath the table, wariness staining his stare.

"He'd be unstoppable, then. Without the trans...locator, whatever you called it. And he disappeared like that—" Moira snapped "—and he didn't even need to prepare or anything. How are we supposed to stop that?"

Erik's leg started to tremble as his body went rigid.

_Erik..._

_—can't do this, can't do this, going to get killed, wir werden sterben, Ich kann ihn nicht aufhalten, oh mein Gott—_

"Moira, excuse us for a second."

"Oh, uh. Of course."

Charles grabbed Erik's hand and led Erik to a storage closet in the back, casting away the glances from the junior agents. Erik's breathing was even and measured until Charles pulled the door shut, putting a barrier between the prying eyes and ears of the CIA agents in front. The sound of the lock clicking was accompanied with the sound of knees hitting the floor.

"Erik," he said. He turned around to see Erik, kneeling, his fingertips shaking at their point of contact on the floor. He made no noises other than the startlingly calm inhales and exhales. His eyes were wide and unblinking, betraying his breath. Charles thought he might shatter at the touch.

"Erik," he said again. He took a step forward. "Hey."

Charles sank to the floor next to him, hands on his knees. He bent to look Erik in the eye. "Hey..."

"We're gonna die," Erik said. His voice was hoarse. "We're gonna die, Charles _—"_

"Maybe," Charles said. There was no use in lying, in telling Erik that they didn't know what they knew. "We just have to be more careful, now. Now that it's possible."

"He's going to follow us," he whimpered. "He's going to find us again, Charles, how do you think he found us the first time?"

"At a CIA base? We were stupid to think he wouldn't find us there. He has connections all over."

Erik sat up, his eyes rimmed red. "Is that supposed to make me feel better?"

"No, but this next part might." Charles shifted so that he was sitting on the ground instead of his legs. "I have a house. A big one. A mansion, really. It's in upstate New York, and _I_ own it. It's been in the family for nearly a century. He won't be able to find us there."

Erik relaxed an imperceptible amount. "And if he does?"

"One step at a time, darling," Charles murmured. Erik closed his eyes against a wave of tears. He reached out to Erik's un-gloved hand. He shrunk away, then offered it. Charles ran his thumb over his knuckles. "I think we focus on you and the kids, for now."

"Why me?"

"Erik, you know why."

"I'm fine."

"You're not."

"It doesn't matter."

"But it _does,"_ Charles said. He pulled Erik's hand towards him, cupping it with both of his. "You've been shaking the whole day..."

"It's cold," he choked out. 

"Stop," Charles said. "It's not just the cold." He wiped a tear from Erik's cheek.

Erik turned his head towards the door, watching it with a burning intensity that was suddenly turned to Charles. "What about you?"

"This isn't about me."

"Raven?"

"She's all right."

"Shaw could've killed her. He will, now that..." Erik trailed off with a sniff. He pressed his the heel of hand into his brow. "I can't do this, Charles, I can't--"

"You can." Charles released part of his grip on Erik's hand to grab the other, pushing his palms together and holding them there. "Because we're doing it together, yeah?"

Charles flipped the position of their hands, with Erik's on the outside. Then, slow, he put his fingers to Erik's temples, framing his head with warmth. 

_Yeah?_

Erik shuddered. "I don't..."

"Erik..."

"No, I mean... You shouldn't have to see it. It's not...." He choked. "It's not your _fault."_

"That doesn't mean it can't be shared," Charles said. His heart was breaking; Erik's voice was delicate, caring through the hurt. 

"Charles," he said. "I... don't know if I'm ready."

Charles nodded, letting his hands fall to the floor. "That's okay. And I'm not looking, I promise."

"I know."

A declaration. Erik trusted him, with all his power, to stay out of his head. Even though Charles thought that was right, despite how he'd insisted, Erik still trusted him not to intrude... Charles' gaze snapped to Erik's, who had stilled, no longer shivering, his hands on his knees. 

Charles told himself the anxiety was screwing with his thoughts as his lips parted. There was some feeling pulsing at the back of Erik's mind, hot and languid, the dual sensations so appealing in the stifling cold of the plane. If he could just reach out and touch...

He dug his nails into the carpet. He wouldn't betray Erik's trust, not now, and not so quickly. He willed himself to look away. Within a few heartbeats the warmth had dissipated, leaving them in the cold.

"Thank you," Erik said. "For..."

"Of course." Charles wasn't going to force him to say it. Erik smiled, keeping his eyes down, before standing. He offered Charles his hand. 

Charles took it, rising with him. 

"This is going to look... compromising." Erik's laugh was small, fragile thing that Charles wanted to bottle up and keep close to his chest.

"To who?" 

He laughed again, this time heartier and from the chest, bursting with warmth. Two bottles, then. He'd need a bigger breast pocket.

"Lead the way." 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> follow me on teenelf!

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on tumblr @teenelf, ask me questions send me prompts share ideas etc! keep in mind that i'm not posting anything "cherik" related rn but i will if you send me stuff! i need interaction. so consider that an incentive lol.


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